Starting Over
by Maeggy
Summary: After a devestating year and a horrible breakup with a cocky Raw Superstar, Claire must now pick up the pieces and move on. But can another help her along the way and work his way into her heart at the same time? LitaCena, KaneOC, EdgeMaria
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody except Claire and the plot. Mmmk? So don't sue me 'cause I'm a poor poor college student. **

**Chapter One**

"You know, you're nothing special yourself," he finally snapped after minutes of agonized silence.

She paused. Then, "Oh, you...you...malicious, arrogant...," caught up in anger, she struggled with words, "_evil_ little man."

It was weak and she knew it, but it was the best she had at the moment.

"Trust me, _sweetheart_," he sneered, "there ain't anything little about me."

A bark of laughter. "Oh, please. Don't give yourself more credit than you deserve. You certainly lack in other aspects."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked through clenched teeth.

She crossed her arms. "If you can't figure it out, then I'm certainly not going to be the one to tell you."

"If you are referring to that...that _incident_, then I already said I was sorry." He was getting frustrated. "I bought you flowers and a necklace! What more do you want?"

_Why that little- _"It's not about the gifts! Is that all you think I'm interested in? Your money and what you can buy me with it? Jesus fucking Christ! How shallow do you think I am?"

Scoffing, he replied, "Oh come on. You're all the same. Great to look at but-"

She held up her hand, effectively stopping him. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to reign in her anger, and suppress the hurt his words brought. Whispering, "Is that how you think of me?" She swallowed back tears. "That I'm just a pretty face?"

Oblivious, he kept on going. "You're just like all the rest. 'Not about the gifts' my ass. What are you fishing for? Bigger diamonds? A new car? Hell, a new house? I saw how you looked at me that night. I was just _waiting_ for you to give up your little 'oh, look at me I'm so innocent' routine. No woman is that stupid. Why do you think I'm with you? Certainly not for the sex, I can tell you that much. Not like you put out or anything," he muttered the last bit to himself, but she heard it anyway.

A tear escaped, flowing silently down her cheek. She just let it go, knowing that it wouldn't matter because more would certainly follow. Clearing her throat she asked, "Silly me. Thinking you cared."

The tone of her voice must have finally registered, and he laughed. "Are you serious? You really thought...," he broke off for more laughter, unable to keep it in. "That is just priceless. You really thought I'd want to be with you? That is so...stupid. Have you seen me? The only reason I even gave you the time of day was because you're in on creative. Storyline's and all that shit. Worked for Paul, didn't it?"

She paused for a moment. Then, "I see."

In a surprisingly calm manner, she crossed to the other side of the room where she had thrown her things earlier in the day, prior to going to the arena. Picking up a few random items of clothing that were strewn about, she repacked her bag quickly, if not a little disorganized. She took her purse from the nightstand and fished around in it before removing the keycard for their hotel room. Hand gripping the leather handle securely and purse hooked on her arm she walked over to the brunette, who was looking at her as if she lost her mind, and placed the card down on the table that was next to him. "Since I mean so little to you," she began, "then you won't have a problem if I end this sham of a relationship. Naïve little Claire, actually thinking the great Legend Killer could have had feelings for her. Well, I've certainly seen the light now. So you can take your flowers and your jewelry and you can shove them securely up your ass."

Randy just looked at her, not believing what he was hearing. No woman dumped him. It just didn't happen. "Good luck finding someone to deal with you then. Fuck if I'm going to put up with you anymore. It's a miracle you even have friends around here. Too needy."

Claire just nodded in response, not trusting herself to speak for fear of bursting into tears. It took all she had to hold in the emotions during her little speech, and as much as Randy could be an ass at times, he had hurt her unbearably so. Turning around, she walked to the door and left, the door clicking softly behind her. Halfway to the elevator, she nearly ran into Amy, who had just come in from getting some fresh air. "Sorry," she mumbled and started walking again.

"Wha- Claire, wait a sec," the redhead said as she reached a hand out to stop her. "Where are you going?" As much as Lita was a bitch on television, Amy the person was much nicer and incredibly outgoing, befriending the smaller women within days of her starting on the creative team. In the year and a half that Claire had worked for the high energy company, the two had spent many a man-free night watching movies and catching up on gossip. Claire was there for Amy when her and Adam had finally broken up, deciding they were better friends than lovers, and it looked like Amy was about to return the favor.

"I'm, uh...going...away," her voice cracked on the last work, the tears starting to make a repeat performance.

Amy spun her around, hands firmly on her shoulders as she looked her directly in the eye, trying to get a reading on the situation. "You're going to come with me to my room, okay?"

She responded by shaking her head, "No, I don't want to be a...burden." Claire took a deep breath trying to hold everything in. Last thing she wanted was to do break down in a hotel hallway.

"A burden? What the hell? You're coming with me and you're going to tell me what happened between you and the Asshole," Amy said as she put her arm around Claire's shoulder and steered her down the hall.

Not another word was spoken as they walked the rest of the way down the hall and into her hotel room. After the door had clicked shut, Amy addressed the other person in the room, "Out Copeland."

"That's fucking rude. What the hell crawled up your ass and...oh. Nevermind." The tall Canadian abruptly cut himself off when he finally realized that another person was in the room. Quickly becoming concerned he went over to the two and took Claire's suitcase from her. Or at least, he tried to, but the death grip on it wasn't helping any.

Looking down at Claire's hand, Amy whispered, "Sweetie, let go."

Robotically she looked to where everyone else was looking and immediately let go of her bag. "Sorry."

Amy gestured for Adam to put her bag away, then led the quiet woman over to the bed. "C'mon, sit down," and without taking her attention from the other woman, she asked Adam, "you going to leave?"

"Nah. I think I want to be here for this one." And he took his place on the other bed.

For the first time since running into the redhead, her attention was really focused on her, deeply searching her face. After a few minutes of silent searching she asked, "Are you only my friend because you want me to get you storyline's?"

Eyes wide, Amy shot a look to Adam, who had an equal look of shock on his face. Thoroughly bewildered by the question, it took her a moment before she rendered an answer. "Of course not! Why would you even _think_ that?"

Teary eyed, she answered, "Because, according to Randy," she choked on the name, "the only reason you all put up with me is because I can, apparently, get you screen time."

"That is such bullshit!" Adam exploded from the bed and marched towards the door.

Claire shrugged, "Maybe. Maybe not."

Stopping with his hand on the door handle, he turned to the silently crying woman on the bed, "You can't seriously believe that crap. 'Cause that's all it is, is crap."

"Okay," she said quietly, looking down to the hands clasped in her lap.

Amy looked up to where her ex-boyfriend was standing, then back to her distraught friend. Patting Claire on the shoulder softly, she got up to join him at the door. She kept her voice quiet as she addressed him, "D'you think you can find somewhere else to room for the night? I'm gonna give her your bed."

Glancing back to the woman in question, he replied, "Yeah, that's fine. I think John has an extra bed anyway."

"Thanks. Now get your shit and get out," she ordered with a smile.

Shaking his head, he went over to pick up his, as of yet, unpacked suitcase. "And it's a wonder that we're not still together."

Amy just shook her head, not dignifying that with a response.

It took Claire a few minutes to realize what was going on around her. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kick you out of your room," she stood up before she continued, "I'll just go. I'm sorry."

Firmly planted in front of her, Amy put her hands on her hips. "Oh no. You are not going anywhere, missy. You are going to lay down," she pointed to the bed, "and try to sleep. You've clearly had a long night. You'll tell us in the morning exactly what happened. But I think it's safe to assume you're not going to back to _his_ room any time soon."

Eyes wide, Claire nodded. Having seen Amy when she gets authoritative it was best to not argue with her because no one wins a fight like that. "I'll just...," she pointed to the bathroom, "um, change." She picked up her suitcase and took it into the bathroom with her.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing to him, don't," Amy dictated to the blond.

Adopting a look of innocence, one which didn't fool Amy in the least, he responded with a hand to his heart, "What? Me to doing to that piece of shit? Never would I do such a thing."

"Uhhuh. Sure. Don't do it."

"Ames, come on," he kept his voice low, "after the year she just had, she doesn't deserve this. He never treated her right. You know it, I know it. Hell, I think even _Vince_ knows it."

"Trust me, I'm aware of all of that. Just...," she paused, "wait 'til morning. That's all I ask."

He seemed to think on that for a minute. "Fine."

"Good," she nodded, "now get the fuck out of our room."

Adam just laughed as he opened to the door. "I'll tell John you said hi."

Glaring, she resisted the urge to throw a pillow at his back as he shut the door behind him. She breathed a sigh as she sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated what to do next.

Sleep.

Sleep was next, and it was as good a place as any to start, right? Her plan was to put Claire straight to bed when she got out of the bathroom, and hope that she got good nights rest. God knew that she deserved it. But once she heard the sobbing coming from the bathroom, she knew it wouldn't quite pan out that way.

Sighing, she threw herself back on the bed and started detailing all the ways to murder one Randy Orton.

* * *

Instead of working on my other fics, like any good author, I started a whole new one. Smart, ain't I? But, see, I kina had inspiration 'cause I met John Cena yesterday at a siging in CT (drove a total of 5 hours for it, but still met him). Cool, no:o) 

Well, things certainly started off with a bang, didn't they? Please review and let me know what you think. I'm also debating on who I should pair Claire up with once things get going. Right now I'm thinking of either the Undertaker or Kane. If anyone else had an idea let me know. And I'm thinking of doing Amy and John as a secondary pairing. We'll see. Still early yet.

Review please! A begging author is not a pretty sight, trust me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Being awakened from a deep sleep by a cell phone ringing is not a fun way to wake up. You're disoriented and it takes a bit to figure out where you are and why the world doesn't seem right. Lethargic is a state of being, eyes are gritty and painful, your body doesn't want to work.

That's how Amy woke up.

After what seemed like an eternity, but it was really only two minutes and ten rings later, she reached over and grabbed the phone that she had carelessly thrown there the night before.

"'Lo?" What it said that your voice was nearly nonexistent as well?

It was.

"Your boy here wants to know if it's safe to come back yet."

"What?" Amy was confused, the events of the previous night not having quite organized themselves in her head yet.

"Edge," there was a pause, "wants to know," another, "if he-"

"Shut up, Cena," she snapped. God, it was way too early to deal with him.

He laughed, "Someone hasn't had their morning Wheaties yet."

"I swear to God that I will make sure that you are _never_ able to..."

An odd moan-groaning noise had her trailing off. Glancing towards the other bed, she saw the sprawled out body start to move. "Too early," was barely heard from under the, surprisingly large, mass of blankets and pillows.

"Now look what you've done," Amy hissed into the phone, "you woke her up."

John scoffed, "Excuse me, but I'm in another room. Ain't my fault you talk too damn loud."

"Cena...," she growled.

"Oh look, time for breakfast. See you down there. Bye," he said in a rush, knowing that the redhead already had his number for waking her up, he had no desire to stay on the phone and listen to her rip him a new one.

"One day I swear...," she said to herself, visions of pain-filled John Cena's dancing in her head. "Sorry I woke you up," she said to the floating head that was in the bed next to her, the body obscured by the cheap hotel blankets.

"S'okay," Claire mumbled, turning over in an attempt to try and get back to sleep.

"Uh uh, none of that. Time to get up," Amy said, prying herself out of bed.

"Don' wanna," Claire whined.

Amy sighed, "C'mon. Up and at 'em...I can't believe I just said that."

"Please," Claire sniffed, "can't I just stay here 'til you all leave?"

Walking around the other woman's bed, Amy kneeled down so that the two were eye to eye with each other. "You're going to have to face it sometime. This way, we'll all be there for you. Alright?"

"Please," Claire's voice broke as she begged.

Amy steeled herself for what she had to do. She hated to push Claire, but if she didn't then the other woman would be stuck in rut that Amy didn't know if she'd be able to pull herself out of. This way, the damage would at least be minimized. Even if Claire hated her for it. "No," her voice was bold as she yanked the blankets off the bed, exposing her to the cool morning air.

Claire squeaked at the sudden drop in temperature and made a dive to the fallen linen, only to be brought up short by the arms pulling her out of the bed. Looking at the owner of said arms she said, "You can't be serious."

Amy nodded. "Dead. Now get your clothes, get in the bathroom, and get ready. We have to be down at breakfast in the next twenty minutes because if we don't the boys will eat all the food. And I, personally, don't want to be left with soggy eggs and burnt sausages."

Knowing there was no use arguing, no matter how much she wanted to, when Amy got The Look she was impossible to budge. Claire quietly picked clothes out of her suitcase and made her way into the bathroom to get dressed.

Once the door was firmly shut, Amy let out the breath that she didn't know she had been holding. She then went about picking her own outfit d'jour, knowing that it would only be a matter of minutes before Claire was finished in the bathroom, her having always been quick at getting ready. At least, when Randy decided not to play costumer. Whenever he did that, it would always take her hours before she was ready to go out, her look having to be perfected before she could grace the public on Randy Orton's arm.

Sheesh. The arrogance that man had. Arrogance...among other things.

Putting away those thoughts, she waited for Claire to be done in the bathroom. And true to her word, not more than fifteen minutes later, the two exited the hotel room and headed towards the elevator, only to come face to face with John Cena as the doors slid open.

"Perfect timing," he smiled as the two women stepped in.

"Yeah, well, we're not like typical women," Amy laughed as she pushed the button for the lobby.

"You can say that again. Hey, Claire, how's it goin'?" he asked as he leaned against the back wall. "Hey!" he yelped when Amy smacked him upside the head, "what the hell was that for?"

"Shut up," she hissed through clenched teeth, shooting a look to the woman in question to see her reaction.

Head down, Claire idly ran her fingers across the badly decorated wallpaper, "It's fine, Amy. No big."

After sending a glare to the WWE Champ (oh, if looks could kill), Amy wrapped an arm around the morose girl, holding her close and saying in a stage whisper, "Don't worry. We don't listen to him. We just keep him around to look good."

Claire turned her face to Amy and gave her a small smile, both ignoring the look of indignation on the Champs face.

"Hey, now. That wasn't very...Did you just say I was good looking?"

The elevator doors slid open and Amy led the way off, shaking her head, and walked the short distance to the hotel restaurant. From that moment on Amy decided that she would try and be upbeat around Claire, not wanting to draw more attention of the negative variety to the woman. She knew that it would be hard, and Claire would probably want to smack her every once and a while, but in the end it would be worth it. She just hoped she still had her friend when it was over. The two had become very close, and she didn't want to lose that.

Amy shook her head of her thoughts, deciding that she would start planning after breakfast. On a full stomach. People always think better when their stomach was not doing the thinking for them. "Hey, Copeland. Have a good sleep?"

The blond in question rose an eyebrow before responding, "Why you asking? You actually giving a damn?"

"Someone not get their beauty sleep?"

The question came from Claire.

Everyone turned to look at her.

"What?" she asked, confused. "Would you rather I mope and bring everyone around me down, too? Besides," she looked down before she continued on, "you should know by know that sarcasm is a defense mechanism. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," Adam responded. "Anyway, you know I don't do well without my mandatory eight hours of sleep. That, and this one," he jabbed a thumb in John's direction, "snores like I've never heard before."

"I do not!"

"Ha!"

"Come on," Amy said, taking Claire by the arm and leading over to the buffet line, "let's let the girls argue. Ten bucks say they don't even notice we're gone."

"Not until we come back with food, you mean," she added, a smile trying to break through.

"Exactly. Then they'll just whine and bitch about how we didn't bring them anything back. Men are such babies. What would they do without us?" the redhead laughed as she picked up a plate and started looking over the selection.

Meanwhile, the men in question had stopped arguing and did indeed notice that they were gone, and were now going over the events that caused the Canadian to room with the Champ.

"Dude," John started, "you never actually told me what the fuck happened?"

Adam sighed, "Yeah, well. _I_ don't even really know what happened, other than the fact that Orton is going to have his teeth shoved down his throat."

"What'd he do?" John asked as he watched the two women put an assortment of mini muffins on their plates.

"Said some pretty shitty stuff to Claire, from what I can tell. He actually told her that the reason we're all friends with her is because she's on creative," Adam's faced hardened as he retold what he had heard, flashing back to the look of heartbreak on the girls face.

"Orton said that?"

Adam nodded.

"Randy Orton?"

Another nod.

"The same Randy Orton that was caught in a room with Candice Michelle while he was 'showing her some moves'?"

"The very same."

John raised a brow. "The same Randy Orton that is now talking to her in line?"

"Yep, the one and...what?" It took a minute for John's words to fully sink in, and when they did, he turned around and faced the direction that the other man was staring in.

"Why that little-"

For there was Randy Orton, blocking Claire's way, with a bouquet of roses in hand.

* * *

**Alright, there's Chapter 2. And to be honest, I'm not too happy with it. But meh, doesn't really matter what I think does it? Only matters what you, the dear readers, think. So please, please, pleeeease tell me what you think and REVIEW! Reviews are wonderful things. I would absolutely love some feedback on this thing.**

**Plans for next chapter: the inclusion of Claire's hero, and the uh...downfall of Mr. Orton.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Hey baby," Randy said, million dollar smile on his face, as if nothing was wrong.

Claire just looked down and imagined her mini muffins doing the can-can. Anything to ignore the look on his face. Anything to not look at the face that she had fallen in love with so long ago.

"Orton...," Amy fairly growled, trying to keep her anger in check and not give in to the desire to rearrange his face.

He just smiled at the redhead, "Well, hello Amy. Nice to see you this morning. Could you possibly give me and my girl here a few minutes alone? Thanks." Not even waiting for a reply, he took a step closer to Claire and prepared to take her arm in hand, but stopped when a much smaller one gripped his, nails digging in.

"Oh, Randy," Amy said, infusing her voice with so much sweetness it made her want to vomit, "I don't think I'll be doing that. But I do have an idea of my own. One that I believe would be beneficial to all parties involved. You want to know what that is?"

"No-"

She plunged right on, paying him no heed. "I think...," she leaned in and continued in a conspiratorial whisper, "that you should take your pretty little flowers," she nodded in their direction, "and shove them up your ass!" The last was shouted, her voice carrying over the semi-filled restaurant, the only other inhabitants being those involved in the company, the other guests enjoying a lovely morning of sleeping in.

The smile slid off Randy's face, his eyes hardening and narrowing at the fiery diva. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, I didn't know you were hard of hearing," her voice never lost any of its previous attitude, the fact infuriating the third generation superstar even more. "Let me clarify it more for you."

"Amy, please," Claire's voice was as soft as her eyes were wide. "Just, leave it alone."

"No," she responded, keeping her eyes focused on Randy the entire time. "He needs to hear this because he can_not_ honestly think he can just waltz over hear like nothing happened. He's not _that _stupid."

"_Stupid_," he spat. "Listen, you little bitch, why don't you just go about your usual business of blowing half the roster, while me and Claire here, have ourselves an adult conversation."

The look of outrage that crossed Amy's face would have been enough to send another man running, but Randy was too caught up in wanting to get Claire alone that he didn't notice.

Before she could come up with a response, the likes of which she hoped would make him wet him pants, Claire cleared her throat and addressed her first, "It's okay, Ames, really. Why don't we just finish getting food then go back to the guys?"

Smiling, Amy looked at her friend, proud of her for being strong and not going with him. Randy, however, was livid. No woman said no to him. No woman turned him down and embarrassed him in front of others. How could she _not_ go with him? He bought her flowers, he was going to apologize. Things were going to get back to where they were. With her getting him better storyline's. How was all that supposed to happen if she actually grew a pair? He was pissed off. This didn't happen to him. Ever. "You did not just say what I think you did," he said through clenched teeth.

Claire took a deep breathe before she answered, knowing she was about to do something she never did before. Stand up for herself. "I think...I think that I did."

Beaming, Amy tried hard not to clap. Claire was going better than she thought she was, less than twenty four hours after leaving Orton.

"You stupid little _whore_," he yelled causing everyone too look in their direction. "You don't fucking say _no_ to me. Now let's go," he grabbed her other hand, the one that was not holding a plate, with a vice like grip and started to pull her out of the room, "we need to have a little talk."

Claire tried to resist, but the grip on her wrist became increasingly painful. "Randy, let me go."

"Randy!" Amy yelled, shocked that he was seeing him manhandle a woman in public. Granted, she knew that he was an asshole at most times, but she'd never actually seen him hurt a woman before, especially one much smaller and weaker than him. "Stop being so fucking stupid!"

He whirled around letting the smaller woman go, and at the sudden release and change in direction, she tripped and started to fall and would have connected with the floor had an arm not shot around her waist.

"Oh, I don't know about that," another voice said, this one much deeper and containing a slight southern drawl, originating behind the shaking Claire. "He seems plenty stupid to me. Are you okay?" he asked the her as he slowly withdrew his arm.

She just nodded and unconsciously started rubbing her wrist where Randy had grabbed her.

"And just who the hell do you think you are?" Randy asked as he whipped around to face the newcomer, but his face visibly paled when he saw who it was. "..um. You know," he tried to cover his obvious fear with the anger that was seeming to slip away by the second, "I don't...really think this is any of your business."

The man shrugged, "That may be true, but I also don't think you should be harassing a woman. But hey," he cocked his head, "that's just my opinion."

"Yeah, well...," he started again.

"It's also in my opinion that you should leave now," the voice brooked no argument as he started hard at the shorter man.

"Whatever," he said as he turned and started walking away. As he passed by a trashcan he threw the roses in harshly and turned around as he spat, "I don't want the bitch anyway. She's useless. I'm done. Here I was, out of the goodness of my heart," he spread his arms out wide as he continued to walk backwards, "going to give her another chance- shiiiit," he yelled, arms flailing as he went over backwards, having tripped over a suitcase that someone had tossed down just outside the door the the restaurant. Laughter broke out as the Legend Killer landed on his ass in a much less than graceful way. He scrambled to get up, face red with embarrassment and nearly ran to the elevators.

"Talk about karma," he said as he watched the retreating shape of Randy Orton.

"That," Amy laughed, "was priceless. Talk about a Kodak moment."

Claire just sighed and looked down at her wrist where finger shaped bruises were starting for form, shaking it out, as if to shake away the throbbing pain, she placed her plate on a nearby table and walked back to where John and Adam were staring wide eyed at the group.

Amy sighed and faced the much bigger man, "Thanks for helping out. I didn't know that he would actually do something like that."

He shrugged, "It's fine. I couldn't just stand there and let it happen. That, and the two smart asses over there didn't look like they were about to get up anytime soon," he said of the two men who Claire had joined.

"Yeah, well, I'm going to have a word with those two," she mumbled, glaring in their direction.

"Don't be too hard your man there, he just has lacks common sense on ocassion," he said as the two went back in the buffet line.

Glaring, she responded, "He's not my man. Jesus, just because we're in a storyline together doesn't mean that we're-"

He was quick to interrupt, "I'm well aware of that, Ames. Remember, we had one together too. But, I wasn't talking about tall, blond, and dumb."

"Then who were you- oh," she smiled softly to herself and continued getting food, making sure to more some on for Claire as well.

"Yeah, oh," he laughed.

"C'mon," she said when they reached the end of the line, "sit with us. You know we all love our Big Red Monster."

"Yeah, yeah. You just think you're so fuckin' hilarious."

"Oh, I don't think," Amy stated as she pulled out a chair to slip into, "I know."

"What do ya know?" John asked as he watched the two seat themselves.

"That you two are morons."

As the two continued to argue, Glen glanced over at Claire. She was slouched in her seat, hand absently rubbing her wrist. At the sight of the bruises, he started seeing red. How dare Orton lay a hand on her? Did the man have a death wish? How could anyone want to harm someone as sweet and caring as the woman in front of him? He just didn't get it. Putting all thoughts of Orton out of his mind, he gazed softly at her as he thought of all the ways he would have treated her had she been with him. Thinking that no one was paying attention to him, he just continued to watch her as she sat there staring into space.

He was wrong however, there was one of their party that was paying him attention. Their eyes narrowed in thought as filed the information away.

Then they smiled.

* * *

**Awww, I think someone has a crush.**

**Yay for new chapters. This one came out a lot sooner than I thought it would. And again, not to happy with it, but whatevs. Please, please _review_. I really want to know what you all think about it. Maybe posting it while it's day light out will help instead of in the middle of the night, lol. :o)**


	4. Chapter 4

Lunch was a quiet affair and after everyone finished their meal they all started heading out in different directions. The guys to find a local gym to workout before show time and the girls to head back up their room to pack the rest of their clothing.

"I never understood why they always wait to the last minute," Amy commented of the guys as they stepped of the elevator at the appropriate floor. "Every single time, they're always complaining that they're running late and that they don't have more time. Geez. I mean seriously, you have to wonder about them sometimes."

"Tell me about it," Claire agreed, "you wouldn't believe the phone calls I get from people telling me they're going to be a little late because they're scrambling around to get things done."

Amy was confused, "Why do they call you? You're not in charge of the check-ins and stuff."

Head down, she responded, "I know. But Randy told them that they wouldn't get in trouble for being late if they called me. It wasn't my idea. Just...kinda went along with it. Whatever. No big deal."

Amy stopped in the process of unlocking the door, the key card poised in the slot. "Not a big deal?"

Claire shrugged. Knowing Amy was about to argue, she quickly continued on, "Look, I gotta get my stuff then get to the arena. I have a meeting with Ms. McMahon in an hour."

Pushing the door opened, Amy decided to let the matter drop. For the moment. "You know, she's told I don't know how many times, to call her Stephanie. She's not big on propriety. You should know this by now."

Again, Claire shrugged. "Well, I don't call her that when I'm around her. I do use her given name on occasion."

Amy stifled a laugh. In all the time that she'd known Claire, short as it may be, she had never truly relaxed around the company figureheads. Or, anyone else for that matter. As much as people reassured her, she never lost that distrust about her. Always afraid, it seemed, that something was going to come back and bite her on the ass. Claire had opened up to her older friend, after she had imbibed to much alcohol, but hey, Amy took it how she could get it. She had always sensed something off about the brunette. Not anything bad, mind you, but something nonetheless. Something other than the tragedy that she endured earlier that year. It was something that she brought with her to the WWE. An aura of sadness around her that was palpable the first time the met. To this day, Amy didn't know what it was. Sure, she had gotten close before, but when Claire realized what direction the conversation was going, she was quick to turn it around. It was something that the younger girl had learned to master.

It annoyed the hell out of Amy.

"Whatever," Amy shook her head of her thoughts, "do you need a ride to the arena?"

Claire paused in the act of shoving her things in her bag, papers already put away with her laptop, not having been taken out the night before. She knew, because of the events of the night before, that she would have to catch up on her paperwork before her meeting. A meeting that she had honestly forgotten all about until just the second before. It would be a rush, but she could do it, if she got set up in the writer's makeshift office as quickly as possible. And having a long, drawn out conversation was not going to help her. Not even thinking, she replied, "No, I'm good. Randy...," she trailed off. Randy wouldn't be taking her. Randy and her were no longer together. Closing her eyes, and squeezing back tears, she cleared her throat and corrected herself, "Actually, I should find a ride." She hitched her back on her shoulder and got ready to leave the room, laptop case in hand. "You don't have to. Don't want you to waste your time on account of me."

Already going for her own things, Amy fired back, "Not a problem. I want to do some extra ring work anyway." She took a quick look around, making sure that she didn't forget anything and knowing that Adam would check out for her anyway considering the room was in his name, she started herding Claire out of the room. "I can start before any of the guys get there, as soon as the ring goes up. So, actually, you're kind of doing me a favor."

Not even ten minutes later, the two walked in to the arena, splitting up and going in their respective directions. Amy towards what would be the womans locker room for the night and Claire to find where her office would be located.

The redhead easily found the diva's locker room and went inside, all the while thinking that the general layout of most, if not all, large arenas were the same. Going inside, she was not surprised to find out that she was the first and went to pick an area on the other side of the room, against the wall, wanting to try and have a good sized space for herself.

It didn't take her long to unpack what she would need before the show and decided to indulge in some light yoga, knowing that she would probably have another hour before the ring and the mats were all in place. Amy always liked yoga, using it as something that would center herself and get her mind in a peaceful state before the chaos of a Raw night. Not usually having a lot of time to indulge herself with the activity, she used any available time that she had to devote to it, knowing that it was something to keep up with. Right before she started, she decided that she would speak to her morose friend and try and convince her to give yoga a try, knowing that it would probably do wonders for her now.

A relaxing hour later, Amy left the locker room and headed down to the ring, wanting to at least orient herself with the structure, something that was in her own preshow ritual, and hoping that someone else would arrive soon so that she could get some actual ring work done. Something that was a lot easier with two people than one.

That thought wasn't even fully out of her head when she nearly ran into the current WWE champion.

"Sorry," she apologized. Tilting her head to the side in a quizzical manner she asked, "What are you doing here so early?"

He just shrugged and she noticed that his hands were devoid of any baggage, so she figured that he, too, must have put his own things away. "Just wanted to get some extra work in an' I figure thats just about where you're headed too?"

She nodded, and the two continued on at a leisurely pace. As they went, they waved and spoke to various crew members who were readying the area for that nights broadcast, and by the time they arrived at the ring, the last ring post cover was being tied on.

"Perfect timing," she said to John.

He nodded, "Ch'yeah. Usually, by the time I get here, ring's usually full of people. Kinda weird being here this soon."

Amy walked up the steel steps while John just jumped onto the ring apron. Before she had a chance to go through the ropes, John put his foot up and held the middle one down for her to make it easier for her to step through. "Gee, thanks. Always the gentleman," she teased.

He shrugged once he straightened up after he made his own way into the squared circle. "Meh, I try."

She laughed. "Whatever. If this is so weird for you to be here now, why _are _you here so early?"

"Not by idea, believe me. I was ridin' with Glen, and since he wanted to be early, didn't really have no choice. Not like it's a big deal 'cause now I get to work with this hot broad before anyone else gets here," he finished by popping the imaginary collar on his t-shirt.

"_Hot__broad?_" Amy quirked her eyebrow and tried to look angry.

Her look must have worked because he quickly dropped his hands and tried to backtrack, "Well, uh, I meant...shit."

She crossed her arms.

"You don't make it easy for a guy to compliment you, you know that right?"

Trying hard not to laugh, she responded, "_That_ was a compliment?"

"A really bad one apparently."

"No kidding...," she trailed off. "I supposed I could let it slide for now. Guess you'll just have to try harder next time." It was hard not to laugh at the look of obvious relief on his face and then she did release a small giggle when it was obvious that he realized what else she said. "_Anyway_, why'd Glen want to get here so fast?"

John smirked, "To talk to Claire."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Again, I own nothing (except for Claire and the plot). Nada. Zero. Zilch. Zippo...well, you get the point. By the way, have you ever noticed how many different synonyms for 'nothing' start with the letter 'z'? Just a random thought. **

**Chapter Five**

The door was left open a bit, and he had to stifle a laugh when he glanced inside.

Among the mounds of notes and print outs, was Claire. Glasses perched on her nose, one pencil behind her ear and another in her hand, she looked to be busily jotting something down on one of the papers. Leaning her head on her hand in the meantime, her elbow dangerously close to a cinnamon bun and becoming part of her breakfast.

Glen gave a cursory knock on the door and pushed it the entire way open before she could utter a response.

"You know, if you're not careful you're about to be eating your elbow," he said with a chuckle as he glanced towards her breakfast.

"What?" She looked down. "Oh," she breathed as she moved the plate in front of her, safely away from any unwanted body parts. "It's been, uh…a long day."

He glanced down at his watch, "It's not even noon. But I can understand. From the sounds of it, you didn't have the best night. Or morning for that matter."

She shrugged a little bit and turned her attention back to the papers in front of her, clearly not wanting to continue with that line of conversation. "Yeah," she said softly, offhandedly as she finished writing a sentence. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him survey her small office, though the word 'office' was definitely used loosely in this situation. The room wasn't tiny, but it certainly wasn't large. Just enough room for a small desk and chair, and a tiny couch in front of it to make visitors feel comfortable. It hadn't taken her long to get everything set up, the only thing she had been worried about was internet connection, but her fears were alleviated when she turned on her laptop and her internal wireless immediately connected. Not all arenas had a wireless connection, so it was an added bonus to find one that did.

"So, what are you up to now?" the Big Red Monster asked, oddly unsure of himself. It wasn't often he found himself in a situation where he didn't, or couldn't, take control, but every time he found himself in close proximity to Claire it felt as if he was standing on uneven ground.

Pencil stilling, she glanced up at the giant man. Outwardly calm, she was shaking on the inside. Not in fear, no, in something altogether different. Not that she'd ever let him know it, not after the debacle that was her relationship with one Randy Orton. No, she wouldn't, couldn't, trust another Superstar like that again, for she realized, she would always have that little niggling of doubt. Were they using her? Was that how all her wrestling friends saw her? A means to their end?

Shaking her head before she brought about another breakdown, she forced her mind back to the question at hand. "What am I doing?" she repeated, looking down at the papers scattered about her.

"Yeah," he replied, looking sheepish.

"I'm…working?" she asked more than stated, wondering why he would ask a question that had such an obvious answer. Was he trying to get insight into his storyline? Future storylines? Planned title runs?

She was paranoid, and she knew it. But the knowledge of it didn't stop the insidious thoughts from creeping in. She was going to go crazy if she didn't stop, then again, she probably wasn't completely sane to begin with. Her friends would probably state that dating Randy Orton would be a testament to that fact.

"Uh, yeah, I probably should have known that. Sorry," he forced a chuckle, trying to dispel the suddenly awkward mood. "You know what? I should probably get going anyway. Practice a little…Or something."

As he turned to leave, Claire called out, "Wait. Was there something you wanted?"

Turning back fully to face the young woman, he replied, "Wanted? I just wanted to see how you were doing, if you needed anything-"

"You mean you didn't come here to discuss storylines? Or to know what you had coming up? If I could put in a good word for you?"

The look of shock on Glen's face would have been funny had Claire not been completely serious. He paused before even thinking of answering her, expecting her to start laughing and tell him that she was joking. But, for that matter, he couldn't honestly remember a time when she was so open as to joke around with someone, to laugh, be carefree. He didn't envy her for that, but wished like hell he could change that for her. To be the one to cause her to laugh and smile without worry or sadness in her eyes. But, that time wasn't now. Now was the time to figure out just what in the hell she was talking about, because this was just so completely new, so random-

"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, cutting his internal monologue off, trying to reign in anger as he figured out just where that line of questioning came from. "Does that have anything to do with your breakup with Orton?"

Her look down answered his suspicions and he could have honestly killed Orton, had he been anywhere in the vicinity right at that moment. As it was, he was very much tempted to go and hunt him down. Damn him for doing this to her; for reducing her to this fearful, self-deprecating, and now seemingly-paranoid of those that considered her friend. Granted, he had only seen the semi-carefree version of the girl for a few scant months, and during that time the two weren't even really friends. Acquaintances, surely, but hadn't yet graduated to friendship. And to now see what Orton had done to this wonderful, beautiful woman? It made him sick to his stomach.

"N-no, no. I mean, I just had to ask. I mean, it might…be true?"

She was questioning her suspicions, which was a good thing to hear, it meant that not all of Orton's latest brain washing's had dug their claws in. Yet. He wasn't about to give her any time to let them stew, either.

"It is _not _true!" Okay, being so abrupt and forceful may not have been the brightest idea he ever had, especially when he saw her flinch at the anger in his tone. He didn't blame her, she was never the recipient of that anger, which was usually reserved for Kane to use in regards to his opponents, or the rare person that actually got Glen Jacobs pissed off enough. Randy Orton could now be added to that illustrious, and very short, list. "Of course it's not true," he repeated, his voice much more soothing. "That's the most ridiculous idea that I've ever heard. And I don't want you ever thinking that way again. Whatever Orton said to you, it wasn't true. I don't even need to know what he said to know that it was all bullshit. Okay?"

She was silent, twirling the pencil around her fingers, a frown on her face.

"Hey," he said as he walked over to her desk, and placing both hands flat on the faux-wood surface, leaning down to look her directly in the eyes, holding her gaze captive. And, he was pleasantly surprised to note, that right when his gaze made contact with hers, her breathing sped up and unconsciously licked her lips. He made a mental note of those tidbits and tried not to preen too much to her attentions. "I don't want you to ever say that again, okay? I'm your friend," oh how that word killed him, "and _not_ because of storylines or whatever crap like that. I care about you, and I worry about you. Not because it could advance my career or so that you can put in a good word or whatever. But because you are a wonderful person, and unfortunately you've not been dealt a very good hand in life, so far at least. You are beautiful and kind, and I am honored by your friendship."

Claire was floored. Never had she heard such beautiful words from a member of the opposite sex. Sure, her friendship with Amy and a few of the other divas had used other words of kindness and the like, but never anything along the lines of what Glen Jacobs just said to her. She couldn't stop the tears, couldn't even if she had tried. She wasn't strong enough yet, to remain unaffected. It was the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. Everything from the past twenty-four hours, hell, the past year, shattered over her head, and there was nowhere for her to go that she could hide.

Glen cringed. He was good at throwing hands and taking bumps, making grown men submit in the ring, but put him in a room with a crying woman and he was stuck. Had absolutely no idea what to do. And to be the cause of this particular woman's tears tore at his heart.

Completely devoid of class, he groaned, "Oh, crap. Please, please don't cry."

She sniffled and put a hand in front of her eyes. "I'm sorry," she inhaled, the breath catching on the lump in her throat. "I just…no one's ever said something that nice to me before." She paused, trying to regain some composure, only to fail as a new flood of tears started. "It's so stupid…" breath "to cry over that." Another deep breath, only to have that staccato sound emerge that only crying could bring, "But I can't stop." The last was said on a wail, and she was so humiliated to break down like this.

"Uh…" It wasn't the most intelligent thing to say, he knew, but he had no idea what to do in this situation. It was clear that she needed to get this out, and that his words were only the catalyst, not the cause. Thank God.

"Can you…can you please just go?" she asked between gulping for air.

"Claire, I don't think-" he began, only to be cut off.

"Please? I'll be fine," the sobbing that had started made him seriously doubt that statement. As did the fact that her head thunked to the top of the desk, arms wrapping around it, as if to block out the world.

"I'll…uh, just go get someone…Amy! I'll go get Amy. She can…um…deal with this. I am so lost," the last was said to himself as he ran a hand over his half bald head.

Then again, he really doubted that she heard any of what he just said. But, nonetheless, he wasted no time in leaving the room, making sure the door was shut securely behind him so that no one could witness, what she would think of as, her moment of weakness.

_Amy, yeah, she will know what to do, _he thought, _she speaks girl._

If anyone could have witnessed him in that moment, they would surely laugh at the sight: The Big Red Machine, seven feet tall and over three hundred pounds, veritably quivering at the thought of a crying woman. That woman being Claire, but no one needed to know that weakness.

Yeah, he had it bad.

* * *

**I know that it's been a _really_ long time since I've updated, but I just had to update this one. I love this story, even if I'm not so happy with this chapter, the idea of it keeps picking at me and picking at me until I take it up again. And when the muses start biting...almost literally it seems like, you can't ignore them, lol. So, please review, even though I've kept you all waiting for a new installment. I would promise that I won't take so long to update again, but, like life, this are unpredictable. But, hopefully, the well won't run dry again for a very long while. If ever, haha.**

**So, please _please _review. Like I've stated before; a begging author is not a pretty sight.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

After doing a few Irish whips into the corners and ring ropes, the two took a break before deciding what to work on first. Given the difference in size there was only so much he could do to her; or, rather, that he was willing to do. However, John was ready to be a willing participate to any bodily contact she wanted to perform, whether it being a clothesline, a hurricanrana, or something requiring less clothing that he wouldn't necessarily want preformed in a wrestling ring.

Well…maybe, the devil on his shoulder imparted.

"So, what do they have lined up for the Champ tonight?" the redhead inquired as she leaned back against one of the ring posts, elbows rested on the ropes at her sides.

"Triple threat as far as I know," he shrugged. "I know one of them is Kane. It was undecided last I heard who else they wanted to give a shot to. From what I heard, it was between Edge and Orton."

Amy groaned, "God, I hope they give it to Edge. Randy doesn't deserve it."

John nodded in response. "On the other hand, if they do decide to give it to him, I have no problems knockin' him around. Maybe breakin' a few bones."

Smiling she replied, "That is also very true. And something tells me Kane will be all too happy to team up with you to take him out."

"Dude's got it bad," John laughed.

"Oh, leave him alone. Let him have his crush. It's kinda cute, actually. Big ole Glen," she said in a deepened voice, as if mimicking the man in question, "tiny little Claire," she added on, voice going back to normal, and putting her thumb and forefinger very close together as to more illustrate her point."

"Yeah," John chuckled, "something like that."

"Mmm," she responded in a noncommittal way.

Silence fell for a few minutes between the two as John reached to the ring apron and grabbed a bottle of water, more so that he could keep his hands busy with the nervous energy running through his body, than for actually wanting to drink from it.

"Listen, Amy, I was just curious," he started, absently starting to shred the label on the bottle, "but, uh…what you up to after the show tonight?" Adding quickly, "Just heading back to the hotel to chill or somethin', right?" Not wanting it to be too obvious what he was fishing for. He had never been nervous asking a chick out before. But, this wasn't just any chick. It was Amy. And it made him damn nervous.

"Not sure yet. Maybe. Or I'll probably just grab some drive-through before I come back…Like I usually do." Amy knew exactly what he was trying to do, and she thought it was the cutest thing that she had _the _John Cena shuffling his feet, trying to ask a girl out. It also didn't mean she was going to make it easy on the man. She was a woman, as much as some of the fans had forgotten recently, and she liked it when guys made her feel that way. Especially when that guy was John Cena, someone she happened to like in a more-than-friendly-way.

Wow, how middle school was that?

"Oh, well, look. I was just wonderin' -"

"Oh thank God," a nearly frantic giant shouted as he came to a stop at the top of the ramp.

"You have got to be kidding me," John muttered to himself, wanting to do some serious damage to the man who had just interrupted his half-assed attempt at asking Amy out.

Amy, for her part, nearly laughed out loud as the expression on John's face, but stopped as she observed Glen rushing his way to the ring, gesturing and trying to speak.

"Amy -" he took a deep breath, "I need your help."

She smiled in response, tearing her eyes away from where they had wandered back to the Champ, "What's up, big guy?"

"I was talking to Claire, right? Trying to talk some sense into her," he started, rambling. "Orton is a fucking dead man the next time I see him. Making her feel bad about herself like that. Thinking no one wants to be friends with her unless she can do something for them. I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine kinda bullshit. Then she started crying and I really can't handle shit like that. So I came to get you, 'cause, you know, you're a girl and you can handle stuff like that. But - oh, crap, I interrupted something, didn't I? Aw, man, I'm sorry," he added as his ranting finally wound down and he realized that maybe he should have made a quieter entrance from the look he was getting from Cena.

"Nah, man," John shook his head, "you ain't interrupted nothin'." _Except me actin' like a fuckin' fifth grader,_ he added to himself.

"Wait a minute," Amy held up one hand, as if to press pause. "I'm sorry, did you just say that she was crying?"

Glen nodded in answer. "Well, yeah, but…"

"You made her cry? What the hell were you thinking! I thought you _liked_ her, you big idiot," she nearly yelled, cutting him off. She couldn't believe. Could.Not.Believe.It. Were all men stupid? Okay. Wait. She didn't need to an answer to that question.

John, too, glared at the Big Red Machine. As much as Glen could probably kick his ass if he wanted, and that he was annoyed at being interrupted, he couldn't condone making Claire cry. Hell, making any woman cry for that matter. It was the rusted knight in him, probably.

"_I_ didn't make her cry. Well, I did. But it's not what you think. I just told her that I was glad to be her friend, or something like that. And she got all teared up. Saying something about how it was the nicest thing anyone's ever told her, or whatever and she just starting _crying_! I didn't do anything!" He didn't mean to make her cry. Really. He was absolutely freaking out that he did. He did not handle these things very well. Mark would never let him hear the end of it if he got wind of this.

"Oh," Amy said, as if no other explanation was needed. Her air of anger was gone, and was smile was slowly working its way onto her face. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place? She's okay. I'll go talk to her, don't worry. Everything is fine, I promise."

The two men just looked at her as if she had just told them that two plus two equaled five. They watched her as she made her way out of the ring, hopping down to the floor and practically skipping her way up the ramp. She paused only to pat Glen on the back and say something to him before she went through the curtain into the back.

"What in the hell just happened?" John asked, running a hand over his head in frustration. "You made her cry, but you didn't make her cry. I'm sorry, but is the definition of crying different for her somehow?"

The big man on the ramp just looked at him for a second. "Yeah, they're girls, they have their own language. I don't think we're supposed to know what it means."

Both men looked back up the ramp, as if waiting for her to magically come back and explain just what the fuck she meant by that.

"They are so confusing."

* * *

Amy knocked softly on the wooden door, hearing the muffled sounds of crying coming through the wood. She didn't wait for a response, probably because the girl inside didn't even hear her in the first place, as she opened the door and went inside, quietly shutting it behind her. 

"Hey," the redhead greeted softly, coming around the side of the desk, "you okay?"

"Uhhuh," Claire nodded against the wood of the desk. "Fine," she sniffled.

Amy kneeled down, placing her hand on Claire's knee. "Glen came and found me. You freaked him out with the crying thing."

Claire lifted her head from the desk, hair stuck to her cheeks and a few tears still moving down her face. "I didn't mean to," she frowned, chin wavering. "He was just so…nice. They're never nice."

"Yeah, I know," Amy nodded, recalling some of the less-than-happy relationships she had been in in her life. "He's different, though. You know that, right?" she asked softly.

She nodded in response. "I think I kinda get that. He just said the nicest thing and I just started crying, and I couldn't stop," she said as she reached up and wiped the remaining tears away with the back of her hand. "God, it was so humiliating."

"No, it wasn't," Amy disagreed. "You needed to do it sometime. Why not with someone who cares about you. Even if he does get freaked out and leaves to get some better, more superior help?"

Claire chuckled. "More superior? Something like that. Is he, uh…is he okay?"

Amy laughed, too. "Yeah, he's fine. Didn't know which way was up for a while there, but I think he'll make it. He was so scared, he thought he made you cry. It was probably one of the funniest things I've ever seen."

Shaking her head, Claire replied, "He didn't make me cry. It really wasn't his fault. I was just so stupid, I couldn't help it."

"Hey," Amy quietly scolded, "you are not stupid. Especially for crying. Everyone needs a good crying jag every once in a while. You were just overdue for yours. Don't think any less of yourself for it."

Claire just nodded, not really agreeing one way or the other.

"Alright, you wanna come back down to the ring with me and watch the guys practice? 'Cause if they're not still standing there scratching their heads, that's what they're doing. Maybe you can learn some stuff, too, while we're down there." Amy stood up, putting a little weight on Claire's leg as she did so, more as a comforting gesture than an actual need for the help getting to her feet.

Shaking her head furiously, she said, "No, no learning anything. I am not getting in that ring again."

Amy cocked her head, "Again? Hon, I don't remember you ever getting in there."

Claire look startled, "What? Oh. No, that's not what I meant."

"But you just said -"

"I misspoke. Come on, Amy. Let's just head down there, okay?"

Amy nodded and followed the smaller girl out of the room, confused.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Life doesn't always work out the way you envision it, Claire thought as she walked alongside Amy on their way down to the ring. She would have never thought she'd be where she presently was; working backstage for a multi-million dollar entertainment business and being friends with some of the most amazing people. If she were to have picked a path for herself this would not have been it. Not that working for World Wresting Entertainment was a crapshoot. Far from it, in fact. But, it would not have been what she thought.

She had always thought that she would have been a best selling author, living off of her royalties and the rights Hollywood producers would have bought from her. Claire was fully aware at how hard it would be for her to sell a manuscript, though, and even if she did, it would be a whole different thing for her to be successful at it. She knew of many authors would had sold, but weren't popular with the masses. And so, with that information in hand, and her dreams firmly entrenched in her heart, she had applied to work for sports-entertainment company known simply as WWE. Running across their corporate website while surfing the internet, she had seen the application as a saving grace, and while she was very excited to have gotten the follow-up phone call, Claire didn't get too worked up over it because, knowing her luck, it probably would have been one of those, "We appreciate your interest, however…" types of conversations. She had been very happy, ecstatic even, to know that the interview went nothing like that. Claire had ended up on such a high that she didn't know what to do with herself. Her worries and stresses forgotten for that short time, in between leaving those beautiful offices and arriving home, had been nothing short of wonderful.

Then she got home and things changed.

Shaking her head, Claire fast forwarded her memories to when she started with the company. She had hoped, that while working as nothing more than a glorified copy-editor, not that there was anything wrong with that, she thought, she would still have the time to write, spruce up, and try to sell, one of her manuscripts. Of which she currently had two completed and one more that was being worked on, but as of yet, none had been sent out to any publishers or literary agents, as other…things, had gotten in the way.

Claire loved her job, however. She was so happy that she had found a job that let her travel as she did currently. Even if most of the travel didn't so much consist of sight-seeing, as it did seeing the inside of airports and arenas, but it was the knowledge that she was in those far off places, even if she didn't get to experience them like other tourists would. And even though she didn't get to do as much writing as she would have normally liked in a job, she was steadily moving up. Instead of just strictly correctly grammar and spelling, making sure that the Superstars and Divas didn't memorize and spout of words that didn't exist and sentences that made no sense whatsoever, she now got to create small vignettes and skits. Nothing that was a major part of a storyline, or course, but everyone had to start somewhere.

The more she was with the company, the more she was appreciating and respecting it as a whole. Coming to love it almost as much as the talent themselves. But, like all good things, there was a cloud in her silver lining.

His name was Randy Orton.

Third generation misogynist.

"All right, let's see how much damage they've done," Amy said, interrupting, thankfully, Claire from her thoughts.

Looking over at the redhead, who was as close to a best friend as Claire ever had, replied, "I'm sure they haven't gotten into too much trouble, this is what they do for a living, right?"

Amy scoffed, "Clearly, you don't know them all that well. You'd be surprised at what they can do."

When the two of them finally made it down to ring, they saw that the two men had been joined by Adam. The three of them heavily involved in a game that looked to have the goal of seeing who could send their opponent into the ropes the hardest.

Glen was currently winning by the looks of it.

Then again, when you weighed over three hundred pounds, that would be the expected outcome.

"Hey! Look who's come to join us!" Adam exclaimed from his position of reading himself to send John careening into the red ropes. "I was wondering when you'd – oomph!"

"Dude, next time watch what you're doing," John laughed as he reached down to help Adam up from where he was sprawled out, since he had clearly not been paying attention to the man he had, essentially, slingshot back at himself.

"What can I say? I'm supposed to pay attention to you when two beautiful women grace us with their presence?" Adam asked in the girls' direction, a grin splitting his face.

"Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?" Maria asked, coming down the ramp to join the two women at ringside.

"Oh, baby, 'course not. You're the most beautiful one here," Adam backtracked, coming to lean over the top rope.

"Hey!" Amy yelled.

"Whipped," John coughed from behind the blonde.

The Canadian turned to the current champion. "Uhhuh, says the man who's not even dating her and is already whipped," he said, nodding in Amy's direction.

Claire, silently following the entire exchange, looked over at her friend and simply raised an eyebrow at her.

And Amy, blushing, just shook her head and muttered, "Nothing."

"Alright, can we get back to work, please?" Glen asked, moving from his position at the back of the room coming to slap Adam on the back before stepping over the top rope and hopping to the floor.

Adam winced and tried not to rub the now sore spot.

"Hey, anyone up for some…mixed-tag practice?" John asked, a leer on his face.

"John…" Amy started.

"What?" he asked, arms out in a gesture of innocence, or as innocent as he could get. "I meant in the ring."

"Yup, sure you did."

"So," Adam interrupted, clapping his hands once, "how 'bout you and Amy," he pointed to the two, "and then, me and Maria."

Nodding, John replied, "Sounds good. Glen, you want in on this one? Make it a handicap or somethin'?"

"Nah," the big man said, "I'm good."

"Alright then. Ladies," John said, holding the ropes for the two Divas, "if you'll join us."

Taking a step back from the ring, Claire turned and made her way to where Glen was standing. "Hey," she called softly, "can I talk to you for a sec? You know, about earlier?"

Glen looked down at the diminutive woman at his side, taking her in for a few seconds. The unsure look on her face, and the nervous way she was playing with her fingers. "Yeah. Sure," he nodded, moving his hand as if to put it on the small of her back, but second guessed at the last second and put it in his pocket. The two started walking, making their way to one of the doors on the arena floor that led to the hall.

"Hey!" John called out to the retreating pair. "Where you two goin'?"

Glen just waved on arm in the air, not bothering to turn around or respond, knowing that, with one John Cena, it wouldn't have mattered what he said, that he was master at coming up with his own reasoning for things.

"Glen and Claire, sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S – ow! Damn, woman!"

Yep. He was the master, alright.

* * *

**Alright, honestly, I'm not so happy with this chapter. Not at all, but I still posted it. So, last night I was supposed to go to a TNA show (the first one I would ever have gone to, considering that I don't really even watch the show) and my dad had gotten me the tickets. But I wasn't able to go and I'm very upset that they went to waste (he got them for free, so I'm just _really_** **glad I didn't end up wasting his money, too, but it's the thought that counts). So I ended up writing a chapter that is clearly not my best work. **

**You know what makes an author feel better, though? Reviews! They really do. Puts a smile on my face to get those little Review Alert emails. Doesn't matter what you say in them; whether you liked it, loved it or mildly hated it. Just knowing that you not only took your time to read something of mine, but to review as well is a great feeling.  
**


End file.
